“Mind if we join you?”

“As a matter of fact—”

“Thank you.” The biker boss sat his ass beside her. The other guys just stood around the bench, keeping a watchful eye on the place.

“There’s a variety of gourmet food around here and you order a hotdog?” Caitlin scrunched her nose in mock disdain.

Crane laughed, “Ah, my dear. This is not a hotdog. This is homemade garlic sausage. The guy who makes this is from the south of France and insists it’s delicious. And it is.”

“Fancy,” Caitlin grinned.

“We’re more cultured than you think. Just because we’re bikers from the backwoods doesn’t mean we’re all beer and burgers.”

Caitlin took a good look at Nicholas Crane. He had the weathered face of a rancher with deep bronze skin setting off his longish salt and pepper hair. He had a biker goatee that went past his chin and tapered to an edge. He had sun glasses on right now, and was wearing a shirt under his leather cut. And jewelry; lots and lots of chains around his neck.

“So, you guys are here every week?”

“Yep. The epicurean market runs from the end of May to the middle of September,” Crane replied taking a chomp offhis hotdog—or rather sausage. “Lots of out-of-towners. Need to make sure we keep the peace.”

“Quite the hands-on president, aren’t you? I thought you had underlings for that.”

Ashe snickered. Crane chuckled. “Patched members, honey. We’re a brotherhood, not some mafia organization. We also have Prospects.”

“Let me guess . . . bikers on probation?”

“Something like that. They need to learn to live the life, love the life before they earn that patch.”

“Okey-dokey,” Ashe said in an amused tone. “Angry white male incoming at twelve o’ clock.”

Caitlin looked up to see Travis, beers in one hand, a plastic bag of tacos in the other, bearing down on them. He was wearing the scowl from hell. She smiled broadly to put him at ease. She was comfortable with Crane; Travis needed to calm down.

“Crane, Ashe,” Travis greeted tightly as he nodded to the other biker. “You okay, Caitlin?”

“More than okay,” Caitlin replied. “Have a seat, Travis. Crane was just educating me on the culture of motorcycle clubs.”

“You can relax, Bennett. We just wanted to keep your pretty wife company. She seems to be quite taken with the biker lifestyle.”

“Fantastic,” Travis muttered, handing Caitlin a beer and setting down the bag of food beside her. She rummaged through its contents and said, “Jesus, Travis, how many tacos did you order?”

“Babe, have you seen the line? Knowing your appetite, I simply took preemptive action.”

“Like a true soldier,” Crane murmured.

Crane and Travis locked stares. Caitlin glanced at Ashe whose eyes were filled with mirth. Their club president and her husband were having a wordless pissing contest.

Crane spoke first. “Thought I’d let you know, I sent Duke off for a few days to a neighboring county. So you can rest easy that no one will be snatching your wife any time soon.”

“Much appreciated.”

Crane raised a brow. “Not much of a talker are you, son?”

“I’m not too keen on sharing personal information with strangers.”

“Now you’ve just gone and hurt my feelings,” Crane mocked. “Your wife is more trusting. I like her more than you.”

Okay, why was Crane baiting Travis?

“Would you mind, Crane? I’m trying to enjoy lunch with my wife,” Travis gritted through his teeth.